


The Lesson of the Moth

by micromys



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fíli Lives, Kíli lives, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3715099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micromys/pseuds/micromys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle is over. Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, is dead. His nephews still live, even if the life of one hangs in the balance. Tauriel too has survived, although what that means for her, she is not altogether sure.</p><p>Choices are made, and promises are kept, though not without hardship. Sometimes the best course is to forge your own path, even if it takes you far from all you know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_why do you fellows_  
_pull this stunt i asked him_  
_have you no sense_  
_plenty of it he answered_    
_but at times we get tired_    
_of using it_    
_we get bored with the routine_    
_and crave beauty_    
_and excitement_    
_fire is beautiful_  
_and we know that if we get_  
_too close it will kill us_  
_but what does that matter_  
_it is better to be happy_  
_for a moment_    
_and be burned up with beauty_  
_than to live a long time_    
_and be bored all the while_

\- “The Lesson of the Moth”, Don Marquis

 

The battle was over.

The forces of orcs had been beaten back, and eagles kept vigil from the skies. Erebor was reclaimed. Lake Town was gone. Dale was filled with the fallen and those few who had survived, desperate to start anew.

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, was dead.

His nephews still lived, even if the life of one was still hanging in the balance. The heir to the throne was under constant care of healers from both Mirkwood and the Iron Hills, with his younger brother always at his side.

Tauriel too had survived, although what that meant for her, she was not altogether sure. She did not rejoin the forces of Mirkwood, the memory of her last encounter with her king fresh in her mind. There would be no welcome for her there, she was certain. The thought did not hold bitterness as much as a solemn finality — she had made her choice, and it would not serve to look back now. So she stayed near the dwarves, though there was certainly little welcome for her to be found there either. There was, however, still need, and that was enough to keep her close by as the dust settled.

Kíli had need. She had not thought past getting to him on Ravenhill, and then it was the two of them against the same hulking orc that had wounded Kíli so grievously only days prior. It had been close, but the two of them, driven by the desperate fear of having to watch the other fall, had managed to overcome. They had immediately clung to one another, laughing with elation and the high of barely-won victory. 

"You kept the promise," Kíli had gasped, his hair in a wild disarray and blood from a shallow cut dripping into his eye. 

Tauriel lifted a hand to wipe it away. “I’m not sure I am obligated to keep a promise made without my knowledge."

He beamed up at her, smile bright through all the battle grime. "Ah, but you kept it all the same."

They had gazed at each other, caught in the knowledge that they were alive -- they were _both_ alive, and together, and what that could mean. Then an eagle had passed overhead, breaking the spell that had surrounded them. Kíli looked towards the battlefield, and Tauriel had followed as he rushed back, desperately searching for his uncle. They found him lying still and surrounded by other dwarves -- some silent, others weeping openly. Kíli had let out a hoarse cry of denial before lurching towards them, and Tauriel hung back, not wishing to encroach on their circle. She had no place there.

Movement to the side caught her eye, and she looked to see the grey wizard beckoning her over with one hand. Beside him sat the little hobbit, who did not look up at her approach, his eyes fixed on the dwarves in their grief. There was curiosity in Mithrandir's gaze, but either his own weariness or the solemnity of the scene kept him from voicing it. He motioned for her to sit, though she did not particularly want to, as her nerves were still thrumming under her skin. A few odd looks in her direction prompted her to accept, as she had even less desire to draw attention to herself.

When the heartbroken group finally began to move down the mountain, she rose with the wizard and his companion to follow. The murmurs on the wind allowed her to glean that young Fíli was still alive, though in dire condition, and she watched as Kíli went straight to the healing tent that was indicated. Tauriel began to look around for a place to go, not expecting him to emerge for some time, but was surprised when the tent flap flew open and Kíli made his way directly over to her. She frowned down at him, concerned, taking in his red eyes and the fresh blood on his clothes. Not his.

He reached for her hands, squeezing them tightly. "Don't leave."

She hesitated. There were so many questions to consider -- would she even be allowed to stay here? What if she was confronted? What could she possibly do to help? Yet, this was not the time for any of them, and she knew it. She met his pleading gaze and nodded once.

The tension in his face eased a bit, and he returned her nod before moving to go back to his brother's side. 

Tauriel stood there staring at the tent and feeling completely at a loss before a touch on her arm had her looking down. It was the older dwarf she'd met in that house on the lake, the one who had been so pleased by her treatment of Kíli. 

He offered her a strained smile, and inclined his head towards where other wounded were being seen to. "Come, lass. There are some who could use your assistance.”

___

Tauriel stayed. 

In the aftermath of battle, there was much work to be done. She helped where she was needed, with those that allowed it, and did her best to avoid those who were more outwardly uncomfortable with her presence. She had needed to awkwardly turn down Óin’s requests to demonstrate more of her "elvish healing magic", explaining that what he had seen had been about the extent of her ability. She was a soldier, not a medic, and only knew what she needed to in order to keep a patient alive long enough to reach someone more skilled -- and deep, ragged battlefield wounds were very different from poison. 

The skeptical looks he gave her from time to time indicated that he thought she was holding something back, but she had nothing to hide. All that she had was gone -- this new Tauriel was starting afresh, with only hope and stubbornness driving her. Still, she did everything in her power to save those she could, and that seemed to satisfy Óin well enough.

Days passed, and she only saw Kíli for brief moments when he emerged from the healing tent for food or other supplies and their paths happened to cross. He always looked weary and pale, eyes red and his hair snarled and unkempt. When his gaze fell on her, however, some of the strain melted from his face. He stood a little taller, as though just the mere reminder of her presence was enough to lighten the burden on his shoulders. 

They never lingered together long, aware of the many eyes surrounding them, but he made sure to ask if she was well, and always waited for her responding nod before slipping back into the tent. The answer may not have been entirely true, but Tauriel would not have wanted to add to his troubles just then for anything, and she was managing well enough on her own.

When she did encounter difficulty acquiring meals among the wary dwarvish soldiers, she would always be found shortly afterwards by Bofur, Oín, or even the little hobbit, who had introduced himself to her as Bilbo. They were always bearing a bowl of warm food, which she accepted gratefully. There was little conversation to be had between them, affected as they all were by the gloom that hung over the rough camp, but she appreciated their efforts all the more so for it. 

Tauriel took her rest when she needed it, but since she required little sleep, she often ended up wandering. Much of her time during the night was spent up on a ridge slightly elevated from the rest, where she could listen to the quiet and look up at the sky. 

That’s where she was on the fourth night, when the wait finally ended. 

She had been looking at the stars, letting her mind drift, when the crunch of boots on gravel startled her. On instinct she whirled around and started to rise to her feet, but was stopped by a short, stout body colliding with hers. Kíli wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her shoulder, the difference in their heights negated by her being on her knees. 

Shocked, Tauriel’s arms hovered in the air awkwardly for a moment before she returned the embrace, her heart sinking at the feel of his heaving breaths. Had the worst come to pass?

“Kíli,” she murmured into his hair. “Kíli, what is it, what has happened—”

He pulled back from her abruptly, and she just saw the flash of a bright smile before his mouth was pressed to hers. She froze in surprise, and he didn’t push further, pulling away after a brief moment and resting their foreheads together. 

Feeling extremely out of her depth, she blinked at him in bewilderment and took in his appearance — still smiling, in a way she hadn’t seen since they had first spoken of stars and fire moons, and… _no tears_ , she realized with sudden relief. _Simply out of breath_. Had he run all this way to find her? “I… take it there’s good news.”

Somehow his face brightened further. “The best. He’s awake.” 

“And you couldn’t have said that first?” Though her words were admonishing, she didn’t try and keep the gladness from her voice. 

His smile turned a bit sheepish. “Sorry. I was just — so happy, and then I saw you, and… got carried away. I won’t do it again. Well, that is, not if you don’t wish me to.”

She shook her head, finally returning his smile and raising an eyebrow. “I only hope you didn’t inform everyone else the same way.”

His bark of laughter was startling in the quiet that surrounded them. “Nah, just you.”

When she lowered herself back to the ground Kíli automatically moved to join her, seemingly unwilling to break contact. He sat facing her, their legs pressed together, and slid a hand down her arm to take hers, meshing their fingers. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

Tauriel tilted her chin up, giving him a faintly amused look. “You asked me to stay.”

He squeezed her hand. “I mean, that you’re here at all — that you came to find me. That you _keep_ finding me.”

“Saving you.” 

That earned her a soft chuckle. “That too.” 

For a moment both seemed to content to simply sit, enjoying the novelty of having a instant of peace together. Tauriel raised her free hand to bring it to his hair, smoothing it away from his face and gently undoing the tangles where her fingers snagged. Kíli leaned into the touch, looking at her with the same open wonder that he had from his prison cell. 

When her hand rose again, he turned his head to kiss her wrist. “Would you come with me, if I asked you once more?” 

Caught off guard, she withdrew her hand, drawing from him a hushed noise of protest. He tightened his grip on her fingers, as though worried she’d pull away entirely. Instead, she looked away from him for the first time since he’d arrived, and turned towards the mountain. It loomed over them, a deep black against the stars, only broken by the few lanterns at the entrance to the kingdom where even now dwarves worked to make it ready while their new king recovered.

It seemed Kíli could read her mind, as he began speaking in earnest. “I asked Fíli, and he said you were welcome. And seeing as he’s king, now—” and here there was a slight hitch of breath, which he just managed to power through, “or at least soon will be, then it’s really just his word that matters.”

She turned back sharply, and at the look on her face he hastened to amend his statement. “And yours, of course.”

While she had known this was coming, had been aware of it from the moment she’d chosen to remain with the dwarves instead of seeking out her own kin, facing it so clearly — having to give an answer felt overwhelming. Tauriel grasped for a distraction. “Your brother has only just awakened, and you’ve already bothered him about me?”

Kíli’s slightly raised brow indicated that he knew full well she was stalling, but he indulged her nonetheless. “He hasn’t _just_ awakened. I gave him a good hour before bringing it up.”

“How generous. And that didn’t worsen his condition?”

He snorted. “To be honest, I don’t think he was that surprised. Especially after I told him what you did in the battle, saving my life again and all. We owe you a debt, Tauriel. He’s not going to forget.”

“It will not be easy. Not for either of us, or any who choose to help us.”

“I don’t care. I told you, I am not afraid. I need you near. And I promise, amrâlimê — I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

The prospect of staying in the mountain, surrounded by cold stone and dwarves who resented her presence was not a particularly appealing one. Yet she was still there, all the same. No matter the difficulty, she could not deny that she had no more desire to be parted than he did. She could not ask him to forsake his family and kingdom for her, especially after all he had lost. He was needed here. And even if she did refuse and asked him to come with her… she had no home, not anymore. 

No home, no family, no purpose. Even Legolas, who had been as a brother to her, had not shown himself since the fighting ceased. No, she was the only one in a position to make this choice… and as she sat there, seeing the hope in Kíli’s eyes, she felt a sense of surety settle over her.

All of this anxiety was for naught. Her choice had been made days ago, in the ruined streets of an abandoned city.

“Tauriel?” Kíli’s whisper broke into her thoughts, and she glanced down to see worry creeping over his features. Well, that wouldn’t do.

Instead of replying, she leaned down to pull him into a kiss, taking from him what he had from her. Or at least, that had been the idea, but Kíli gave as much as he received, opening his mouth to her and practically thrumming with delight when she accepted the invitation. When they parted, breathing heavily, his smile was radiant.

“So? What is your answer?”

Tauriel smiled, basking in the warmth of his joy, and drew them together once more. “I think you know.”

 

____

 

“Fíli has put a chamber aside for you, you know.” Kíli stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking torn between delight at having her in his room and the knowledge that by the customs of both races, her presence there was highly improper.

In light of everything that they’d been through, Tauriel couldn’t bring herself to care about propriety. At least, not where no one else could see them. “Do you not want me here?”

He shook his head vehemently. “Never said that! Would never say that. I just… wanted to be sure you knew of your options.”

Tauriel did know about ‘her’ chamber. She’d seen it. Once it was cleaned up, it would be nice enough, for a hole in the stone. Perhaps that thought was uncharitable — even in ruin, Erebor was magnificent — but she had not come here to be alone in the dark, away from her trees and her stars. She had come here for a young, reckless prince with sparkling eyes and a smile that warmed her to the marrow, and she did not intend to be away from him longer than she had to.

“Then I’ll stay.” She cast a look over her shoulder, trying to read his reaction.

Kíli’s eyes were eager, but he was clearly trying to hold himself back. “Tauriel… are you sure?”

“Right now, this is the only thing I _am_ sure about,” she said, turning to face him. “You are all I have. If you’ll allow it, then this is where I wish to be.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean? You don’t have to stay here — if you wished to go home for a time, I would understand—”

“I do not _have_ a home, Kíli,” she cut him off abruptly. Not wanting to burden him further in the immediate aftermath of so much loss, she had kept the truth of her situation to herself. Still, he did need to know, deserved to know… as did his brother, as king. “I am banished.”

Kíli’s mouth worked silently, his face the picture of shock. When he finally found his voice again, it was thick with disbelief. “ _Banished?_ How? Why? But you were _Captain_ — what could have possessed your king to cast you out?”

Tauriel stopped herself from telling him it wasn’t important, from avoiding the details of her fall from grace. Much as she did not want to look back on it… he needed her honesty, especially if she was going to be asking so much of him.

“I disobeyed him… multiple times.” She looked down at her hands, willing away the desire to fidget. “At the last, I drew my bow on him. That is not something any would find easy to forgive — particularly not a king.”

Boots echoed on the stone as he moved to stand in front of her, looking up into her face. His eyes searched hers, clearly not satisfied with her answer. “But _why_ , Tauriel? Why would you go so far?”

The bitter resentment and frustration rose in her throat, as everything that had gone through her in the days leading up to that calamitous battle welled afresh. “Because I had had enough of hiding away instead of aiding those I could. Of only looking to our own, instead of those around us. Of pretending that my life was worth more than those outside our woods, simply because they are mortal. Of acting as though if we simply looked away, evil would pass us by. Because I was angry… and because I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” Kíli reached forward to gently work her fingers open from where she had clenched her fists at her side, having lost her internal battle. 

“I did not want you to die.” Tauriel was not a stranger to the thought of death. She was a warrior, and while she was a fine one, even elves could fall. This fear had been different… she had not wanted to lose the spark that had woken her from sleep, that had reminded her of all that she believed and the strength with which she could _feel_. She had been afraid, yes — afraid that all she’d have gotten to touch was that small, warm light, before it was snuffed out forever, leaving her to always wonder. 

Tauriel said none of this, but from the look on Kíli’s face, she hadn’t needed to. How, how did he read her so easily?

Kíli reached up to frame her face with his large hands, cradling her jaw with deceptive tenderness. “Ah, amrâlimê. You really are extraordinary.” 

Her cheeks warmed and she would have ducked her head away, had he not been holding her in place.

“Why did you not tell me this before?” he whispered, tucking her hair behind one pointed ear.

“I did not want you to think I was only coming with you because I had no other choice.” 

It was true that the loss of her home stung, but she also knew that even had she not been banished, there could be no going back for her. Not after everything she’d seen, everything she knew. Going back to the guard, having to obey someone else’s orders, even when they went against everything she felt to be right — she could no longer stand such a thing. No, she would not have returned to the Mirkwood.

Had she not accepted Kíli’s offer to come to Erebor, she would have found another path to follow. But she did, and so here she was… of her own choice.

Kíli moved his hands to her waist, drawing her in closer, his smile taking on a hint of a leer. “Well, since you’re so sure…”

She didn’t resist his embrace, but moved her head slightly to dodge a kiss, shooting him an arch look. “Just because I wish to remain here does not mean I am promising anything… else.”

The expression on his face dropped into a disappointed pout, although there was still bright amusement in his eyes. “Ah, you got my hopes up on purpose.”

Feeling slightly uncomfortable, she shook her head. “No. I simply do not want to be alone… not in this place. If that is asking too much of you—”

The pout dropped from his face in an instant and he brought her hands to his lips, peering up at her earnestly. “No, no. I was only teasing. I am happy to have you with me in any manner you wish. I know this sort of thing is strange for elves.”

“And what is it you know about elves and ‘this sort of thing’?” she asked pointedly.

Caught, his smile turned sheepish. “All right, nothing really — but you hear stories. And until I met you, I hadn’t seen anything to prove different.”

“And you’ve met many elves before me?”

“Not _many_ ,” Kíli admitted. “But we did stop at Rivendell for a time. The elves there were pretty enough, but distant. More like statues or paintings than real people. Not like you.”

Tauriel was unsure whether or not she should be offended at such descriptions of her kin. “Perhaps you simply did not speak with them as you did with me.”

He shook his head. “No, you were different from the first. Fierce, striking, _alive_. I could not help but be drawn to you.”

As ever, his sincere and obvious adoration seemed to unsettle the ground beneath her feet, and she averted her gaze, trying to maintain her composure. 

“I don’t know why this surprises you so, although I do enjoy seeing you blush so prettily.” He reached up to trace her cheek, laughing warmly. 

Mustering herself, she attempted a glare. “Now who is doing such things on purpose?”

“Guilty,” he admitted readily, flashing her a wink. Then he stretched up to bring their faces together, moving slowly enough to give her the chance to escape if she wished. When she didn’t pull away, he sealed his mouth over hers, humming a low happy sound into the kiss. 

They enjoyed the closeness for several long moments, breaking apart only to meet again, before Kíli lowered himself back down, bouncing a bit on his heels. “Now, if this room is going to be suitable for an elf, I have some work to do!”

 

___

 

The weeks passed, and life in the mountain had thus far proved to be… somewhat complicated. Sometimes in ways she had predicted, but much of the time in ways she had not. At all.

For instance, Tauriel had found an unexpected friend in the little hobbit, Bilbo. He had delayed his journey home in order to see Thorin put to rest and Fíli recover enough to be crowned. The battle had obviously deeply affected him, and though his sorrows were of a different shade than her own, he saw enough to extend her welcome. He also had no qualms about expressing his disapproval of anything he saw as less than proper treatment of her -- more than once staring down a grizzled warrior from the Iron Hills as though he had no fear in the least, despite his small stature. Perhaps he did not… there was likely little that could intimidate one after being face to face with a dragon. 

The Company, as Kíli and Bilbo referred to them, were for the most part not an issue. They all had more pressing matters on their minds, and were grieving the sudden loss of their king, some seemingly bewildered to be still living themselves. This also made them disinclined to deprive Kíli of whatever comfort he gained from her presence. 

The young Ori was fascinated by her, and asked her so many questions that she might have been annoyed had they not come from a place of genuine interest rather than suspicion. As it was, being able to speak freely of her culture and former home and have it be received positively was freeing, and she gladly accepted his invitations to talk. At times his brother Dori joined them, offering her a drink and seeming pleased when she accepted. He would also interject his own knowledge into the conversation, and though some of it was entirely inaccurate, Tauriel skirted around correcting him directly. It would not do to sour any little good opinion that they may have of her, if she could avoid it.

The most wary had been Dwalin, and she had initially written him off as one of those whose opinion she was unlikely to ever sway, no matter how she tried. So it was with some shock that one day she realized that he had been quietly making sure that Kíli was never left without the presence of one or both of them as a bodyguard. Although his outward demeanor had not softened, her obvious commitment to keeping the young prince alive evidently meant more to him than kind words. 

It was true that those members of the Company who were more resistant to Kíli’s adulations of her were less likely to ignore the frequent mentions of her having saved his life -- not once, not twice, but four times in the space of a few days. (Whether it was three or four had briefly been a matter of debate, as Kíli maintained that having saved her directly beforehand canceled out the last one. This matter was finally settled by Bilbo, who stated firmly that the point was moot, as Kíli certainly would not have survived had she not come to Ravenhill searching for him in the first place. Kíli hadn't seemed to mind losing the argument in the end, which oughtn't have been a surprise, considering all it did was make Tauriel look better.) 

Thorin’s absence was an open wound, and regardless of opinion, everyone was highly aware that only two heirs of the direct line of Durin were left -- and one of those had a poor record when it came to keeping himself in one piece. They didn't have to admit to liking an elf in order to recognize that she had her... uses, and even if Kíli grated visibly at any talk of her only having worth as a shield, Tauriel was more than willing to take even that small grain of acceptance. Outside of their small circle, there was little of it to be found. 

The only times Erebor truly felt like a home to her was after night had fallen, and that she attributed more to her bedmate than anything else. Kíli was openly thrilled about her presence, and had none of the shyness about demonstrating it that held her back. At times she felt guilty, that she was so tentative in her responses… but Kíli seemed to take every gesture of affection from her as the greatest gift he’d ever received, no matter how small it might be.

For his part, he showered her with gifts — gems that reminded him of starlight, beads for her long hair, a fine new bow and expertly crafted arrows. Tauriel had delighted at the bow, having been without one since the battle. She consented to only a couple of beads in her hair, woven into the few braids pulled back from her temple. Kíli had wanted to add dozens more, but she had refused, not wanting to provoke any dwarves that saw her more than necessary… and also because the feel of their weight was strange to her. She was not used to being adorned so.

The gems she had also gently turned away, soothing Kíli’s hurt by reminding him that not only did she have no desire for such things, but there were a good number who would see it as evidence that an elf was seducing their prince to get at his riches. It soon became evident that she had every reason to be wary.

Kíli always insisted that he did not care what others thought, and that he’d fight any who dared voice such a thing. Tauriel had needed to force him to promise to let such insults pass without violence, as rising to the bait would not only make the situation more difficult for them, but also for Fíli, who had more than enough on his plate already as the young ruler of a barely functioning kingdom. The prospect of potentially causing grief for the two he loved most served to keep Kíli’s more volatile temper in check, for the most part… but there was one notable incident where he failed rather spectacularly.

Tauriel had been returning from practicing outside with her new bow when she came across Dwalin, who was dragging a bloodied and yelling dwarf — one from the Iron Hills, from the look of his clothing — who spat at her as she passed by. Dwalin had simply twisted the other’s arm further, before hauling him bodily towards the passageway that lead down to the dungeons. She had been staring after them, a deep anxiety rising in her chest, when Balin hurried up and gave her a long suffering look. He had always been polite enough to her, but she knew he was not completely certain about her presence in the mountain.

“He can’t keep on like this, lass. I know you have been trying, but—”

His words only confirmed her initial fear, and she didn’t wait for the elderly dwarf to finish before rushing ahead. It was easy enough to find Kíli, considering he was engrossed in a shouting match with his brother, his lip split and blood on his clothes. 

“What is going on?” she snapped, drawing their attention. Kíli immediately avoided her gaze, though his mouth was set in an angry grimace. 

Fíli simply looked weary, and shook his head at her as he left. “You’d best hear it from him.”

Even after they were alone, Kíli would not meet her eyes. Instead they stood there, the silence an almost oppressive weight. 

“Tell me that was not because of me,” she said. 

His flinch told her all she needed to know.

“ _Kíli_!” she snapped. “You swore you would not, you know what this will do—”

“I had to!” he yelled, finally looking straight at her, eyes burning and fists clenched. “I hate everything they say about you, but this I could not let pass.”

“What was it, Kíli? What could he have possibly said that is worse than what we’ve already heard?”

At that, the rage seemed to flow out of him, and he looked reluctant. “It’s not…” he shook his head, scrubbing roughly at his stained coat. “I should get cleaned up. The longer I look like this, the more questions there will be.”

“Kíli…” The obvious hurt in her voice made him flinch again, but still he revealed nothing. Feeling upset and betrayed that he of all people would keep a secret from her, one that _involved_ her, Tauriel spun on her heel and left the way she came. As she went, her keen hearing picked up the soft _‘I’m sorry, amrâlimê'_ aimed at her back.

It was Bofur who found her about an hour later, after she had run through all of her arrows several times and thoroughly wrecked the hasty practice targets that had been set up. She was seated, clutching her bow and staring at the destruction when he lowered himself beside her. 

“I heard what happened,” he started, and she cut him off with a snort.

“Then you know more than I.”

There was a pause. “…Do you want to know what was said?”

Thrown off guard, Tauriel turned to stare at him, but there was only kindliness in his expression. “You would tell me, even knowing Kíli is against it?”

“Ah, he is young. He thinks it will only upset you, but I’m thinking you’re _already_ upset.” Bofur inclined his head towards the wrecked archery range. “As it concerns you, you should know about it, so you can deal with it as you choose.”

“And if what I choose is to put an arrow in the dwarf responsible?”

He chuckled. “If you were going to do that, you would have already — and to plenty of others. And he would have deserved it, besides.”

Tauriel took a deep breath. “…What did he say?”

Bofur tapped his pipe against his chin. “He said that if you could save young Kíli on Ravenhill, then you could’ve saved Thorin, too. That you chose to let him die, because he’d never have allowed you to stay in the mountain. That you probably thought Fíli’d die too, and were counting on using the only remaining heir to get at the treasure, as he has a weakness for you.” 

It felt as though a rock had settled in her gut. She stared at him in dismay. “That’s…”

“Ridiculous, I know.” he said hastily, waving his pipe in the air. “We all know. Those of us that know you, at any rate.”

“Know me?” While Tauriel had been on more amiable terms with some of the dwarves, including Bofur… she wouldn’t have been able to claim she truly knew them, not yet. Perhaps it was simpler for them.

He offered her a smile. “We know enough to see you’d never let anything hurt the lad, or anyone he cared about, not if you could help it.”

She lowered her head, staring at the ground. “…I would have saved him, if I could have.”

“Aye. Thorin’s dead by Azog’s hand, and no one else’s. You saved Kíli, more’n once, and for that you should be getting nothing but respect.”

Much as his words reassured her, there was still one bit weighing heavy on her mind. “Why couldn’t he tell me?”

He shrugged. “Can’t say for sure. Maybe it simply hits too close. Doesn’t just disrespect you, but his brother and uncle as well. Not easy to ignore.”

She nodded slowly. “Thank you for telling me.”

He returned her nod amiably and stood. “Now I’ll be moving on before you pick a new target, seeing as those are done in.”

It was something of a surprise to find herself smiling. “No, I’m done for the day. I’ll put up new ones later… but there is something else I need to see to first.”

___  
   
Tauriel found Kíli in his chambers, seated by the fire. He rose when she entered the room, looking at her with sorrow tinged with wariness. “Tauriel…”

She walked over to him, taking his chin in hand and examining his injured lip. “…Were you hurt anywhere else?”

He shrugged, looking faintly proud. “Nah. He only managed to land one blow.”

She blew out a breath, running her thumb lightly over the wound. At another time, Kíli would likely haven taken it between his teeth, in his playful way… but tonight he simply watched her, worry still evident behind the adoration in his eyes. Wanting to reassure him, she leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. 

He reached up in response to thread his fingers through her hair, brushing his fingers along the line of her jaw. “I take it you’re not still angry with me, then?”

She rested her cheek against his hair, gazing down into the fire. “I know what he said to you.”

At that, Kíli pulled away from her, face darkening. “Who told you?”

Tauriel regarded him calmly. “That is not important. _You_ should have told me. I understand, now.”

His jaw tightened visibly and he looked away. “I can’t bear any of the hateful things they say about you, but to accuse you of such treachery, after all you’ve done…” She let him work through his thoughts, waiting for him to look back up at her. When he did, the fight drained from his body. “I did not want you to hurt because of such a thing.”

She smiled gently and stepped back into his space, where he immediately welcomed her by wrapping his arms about her waist. “When you are hurting, so am I. Keeping me in the dark does not spare me. I need to know, Kíli. If I do not, I will simply fret more, wondering what I could do.”

“You don’t need to do anything,” he murmured, head resting over her heart. 

“Oh, but you do?”

He winced, tilting his face up to look into her eyes. “You said you understood.”

“I do understand, but that does not mean I like it. I can defend my own honor, Kíli. I don’t restrain myself because I am incapable of winning, but because doing so would earn us nothing but more hardship.”

He huffed a frustrated sigh. “I don’t understand why so many of them fail to see what I do, even with what they know of your heroics. From the moment I first looked upon you, I could tell you were remarkable. If I can see that from a prison cell, why is it so difficult for them?”

She laughed softly, pressing a kiss into his hair. “I believe they would say your eyes deceive you.”

“Ah, but my heart does not.” He grinned up at her. 

Tauriel shook her head, flushing at the ease with which he said such things, and attempted to pull away. He laughed fondly and did not let her budge, soothing her embarrassment by peppering kisses along her neck. 

Though they had come close several times before to being intimate, when kisses and caresses under the sheets had become almost too heated to bear… Tauriel had always brought it to a halt, unsure of herself and the breadth of what she was feeling. She had offered to leave the bed and give Kíli space to calm down, but he always rejected the idea and asked her to stay. So instead she had held him close, murmuring endearments into his hair until his breathing settled and he drifted to sleep. True to his word, Kíli never protested or pushed her for more, content so long as she was close. 

This night was different. For the first time Tauriel felt no hesitation, and when Kíli paused, awaiting her permission, she granted it without fear. 

Coming together in such a way was comfort, it was an apology, it was reassurance — and it was a celebration. Celebrating that they were together, that they loved, and that despite everything, nothing could take that away from them if they did not allow it.

It was a promise.

And if there was anything they had learned to take seriously, it was the keeping of promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing fic in over a decade, and I am very anxious about the whole thing. The more I look at it the more I’m convinced I should never write, haha! But I love these two, and their small little fandom, and I wanted to contribute somehow. I hope somebody enjoys it! Any feedback would be appreciated. You can also hit me up on tumblr, I’m micromys over there also!


	2. Chapter 2

When Tauriel felt too stifled in Erebor, she went to Dale. 

There was just as much work to be done there as there was in the mountain, and men were far less critical of her presence than the dwarves were. The new king always welcomed her, having heard from his children how she had protected them from both orcs and dragon fire. However, Bard was initially hesitant to accept her offer of help, as he already felt in her debt. They finally came to an agreement when she acquiesced to his offer of a place of her own within the city, to be used whenever she had need — or whenever things in Erebor weighed on her too heavily.

She hadn’t told him about her troubles, and Bard never asked about them outright, but his eyes were knowing.

Tauriel picked the top level of one of the buildings that seemed the least likely to collapse on her without warning. When standing on the roof, she had a fine view of the mountain. Initially it was simply a utilitarian space, with little more than a rough pallet, but that began to change after her first visit from the young Sigrid and Tilda. The children brought her blankets, and clothing, and even flowers to brighten the place, despite her protests that she had little need and that the supplies would be put to better use elsewhere.

Soon she realized that the young ones took after their father, in that they did not so much argue their point as simply made it happen in a way that made it impractical or impolite to refuse. In truth, Tauriel had no wish to hurt their feelings, having grown fond of their company, which was refreshingly cheerful in comparison to some of the dwarves. They were bright and curious, and Sigrid even asked her if she would teach her how to fight, the elf’s easy dispatching of the orcs the night of Smaug’s attack clearly having made an impression.

Tauriel saw no reason to deny her, having spent most of her years training to defend herself and others, and believing everyone should be granted the ability to learn how to protect that which was important to them. So, she began to teach Sigrid basic defensive techniques, ones that did not require the use of weapons. Every once in a while she relented to the girls’ pleas and demonstrated some dagger work, but refrained from showing them anything that was particularly fancy, or likely to get Sigrid hurt — particularly as she had no idea what Bard would think of the whole thing. Still, it was a start, and at least they seemed to enjoy the lessons.

After a time they were even joined by Bain, the boy trying and mostly failing to conceal the magnitude of his interest. Tauriel said nothing about it, but simply handed him a knife and began directing his movements in the same way she had done with her recruits back in Mirkwood. The memory had sent a pang through her, and she indulged it long enough to hope that they were well, and that they did not resent her for abandoning them, before pushing it aside with all her other hurts.

It was a pleasant way to spend her time, yet even so, she never lingered very long. Though a nice respite, there was a significant downside — Kíli was rarely with her. Initially he had tried to join her when she made her first visits, but the intensity of the disapproval they had both received upon returning to the mountain prompted him to stop. He didn’t mind it for himself, but anything that made matters more difficult for Tauriel was unacceptable in his mind. Seeing the trouble, Fíli had stepped in and provided Kíli with an excuse — sending him to meet with Bard as his representative. It was difficult for any dwarves to argue against, as the two new rulers _did_ have reason to communicate — and meet with him Kíli did, before slipping away to spend the evenings with Tauriel and the children. Even Bain’s interest perked up then, especially when Kíli offered to show him some sword techniques.

It was on one afternoon when Tauriel was returning alone from Dale that she noticed an unusual hubbub at the entrance to the kingdom. She paused a fair distance away, from where she could easily observe the goings-on, but any dwarf unfamiliar with her would be unlikely to notice, much less be able to distinguish elf from man. It appeared to be a sizable contingent of new dwarves, the largest that had arrived yet. 

At their head was a dark-haired figure with a neatly trimmed beard, whose hands were clasped in the young king’s. Tauriel could easily make out Fíli’s elated expression, and took note of how closely his head was bowed to the newcomer’s. The unknown dwarf was turned away from her, so she was unable to make out their features — but in the next moment it was irrelevant, as Kíli burst into view and threw himself at the stranger with a jubilant cry. 

She suspected she could have heard his joyous laughter even without the aid of her elven hearing, and the stranger — _but it wasn’t a stranger at all now, was it_ — was quick to wrap her arms around him. Around her son.

Tauriel turned and headed back the way she came.

_____

It wasn’t that she was _avoiding_ Dís, exactly. 

Tauriel told herself that the brothers needed time with their mother, time to rejoice in their reunion and to grieve their shared loss. Time that should not be interrupted by an elf and the awkward questions that inevitably followed wherever she went. That was why she did not return until after nightfall, and even then skirted the main entrance, instead choosing to utilize one of the smaller side passages that had been recently cleared of debris. With so many new dwarves in the mountain, simply walking in the front gate would be asking for confrontation. She could handle such things, of course, but it would likely give the newcomers a poor first impression.

The fact that it allowed her to put off having to present herself to the lady Dís was merely… convenient. No reason had been given for her to be wary, after all. Her sons spoke highly of her, and Tauriel knew that they had missed her greatly and had been looking forward to her arrival. Kíli had not expressed any concerns over how his mother would react to his relationship with an elf — though coming from one who had told her he had no fears about asking her to accompany him to a mountain that at the time had been held by _Thorin Oakenshield_ , that wasn’t the most comforting. 

Rather than heading directly to their shared chambers, Tauriel went to the armory, intent on spending some time maintaining her weapons. It was a task she always found to be soothing, and she could use some small comfort right then. Perhaps she was not as secluded as she’d thought, despite the late hour, as she had only begun polishing her second dagger when she sensed someone making their way down the hall. 

She kept her head down over her work, having found that things often went more smoothly with dwarves when they believed themselves to have the upper hand. However, the owner of the voice that cut through the quiet of the room needed no such advantages. It was the same one that Tauriel had heard on the breeze from Erebor’s gates earlier that day… and the one she had been counting on evading for a while longer yet.

"I suppose you are Tauriel? Unless there is another elf lingering here for unknown reasons."

"My reasons are known." The steadiness of her tone surprised her, and she carefully set aside her work to stand and face her visitor. In a smooth motion that she had rehearsed in her mind, she reached to slip the leather cord from around her neck, from which hung a pouch that was usually hidden under her clothing. From it she slid Kíli’s runestone into her palm, and stepped forward to hold it out to Dís, trying to keep herself from thinking of it as a peace offering. "I believe this is yours."

Dís' eyes flickered down to the stone, but she did not move. "No."

Unsure, Tauriel withdrew her hand slightly. "No? Kíli told me--"

"To give it to me?"

She shook her head. So often her conversations with dwarves went anything but how she expected. "That it came from you."

"Aye, it did that. I gave it to him as a gift, and a reminder."

"A promise,” Tauriel murmured.

Dark eyes, so like her son's, glittered in the dim light. "Yes."

"He's kept his promise."

"With a great deal of help, or so I hear."

Tauriel inclined her head in acknowledgement, and Dís stepped closer, leaving the doorway. "What did he say to you, when he gave you that stone?"

"To keep it," she said, choosing to keep his accompanying pleas and endearments to herself.

"Then it is yours." Dís reached out and curled Tauriel's fingers around the stone, unknowingly echoing her son's gesture on the lake shore. Tauriel froze, and then nodded jerkily, knowing better than to argue and, in truth, not eager to give up the first gift Kíli had ever given her.

Seemingly satisfied with her response, Dís settled herself on the stool that Tauriel had just vacated. “You shall have to tell me how an elf of the Mirkwood became so invested in the well-being of my son."

"He did not tell you?” Left with little option but to remain standing, Tauriel busied herself by tucking the stone back into its pouch and returning it to its place around her neck. 

"He told me a great deal, but of stars, hair like fire and bright white light,” Dís snorted. “The details of the matter didn't seem to make it into the telling."

Tauriel looked down, face flushed. "I see."

A strained silence settled between them, before she was prodded further. “I had hoped _you_ would have more insight.” 

“He is… easy to become invested in,” Tauriel replied after a deep breath. 

Dís made a begrudging sound of agreement. “That is true enough for dwarves, but for you? Your kind are not known for being so unfettered with their emotions.” 

Tauriel looked down at her hands, stinging at the reminder, even though she was aware that the insult was likely unintended. “Some of us are more so than others.”

“Aye, and Kíli is the most so, among our kin. Always following his heart before his head, not stopping to think about the risks. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised he’d be so unconventional in love. He was never one for the smoother paths.”

At the even tone of her voice, Tauriel glanced up again. "You do not seem... _opposed_ to his feelings."

"I do not yet know enough to be opposed.” Dís lifted the dagger Tauriel had been polishing, turning it over in her hands. The elf tensed slightly, but made no move to retrieve it.

"That does not stop many,” she said.

The dagger froze mid-turn. "Many like my brother, you mean."

Tauriel winced inwardly. "I am sorry for your loss."

"An odd sentiment, for an elf." There was no reprimand in Dís’ tone, and when her eyes lifted from the weapon, they carried the same shadow of grief that was now ever-present in her children.

Still, Tauriel weighed her words carefully. "I did not know him, but I have seen the devotion of his people." In truth, what little she had known of the fallen king she had not liked -- but she was at odds now with her own king, and even her anger and disillusionment did not stop the loss of her place in his kingdom from aching. "Especially his nephews."

Dís nodded. "They always looked up to him. I couldn't have stopped them from going on his quest, even had I tried."

"Did you wish to?” she asked before she could think better of it.

"Of course I wished to. They are my children. They -- and Thorin -- were all I had left. You should know well enough yourself how close I came to losing them all."

Tauriel said nothing. It was true both had almost lost their lives, multiple times, in Kíli's case... but if they had never come, her own life would be very different. Easier, perhaps, but less… real. It was a selfish thought, but she was beginning to accept such things within herself, even if she was not proud of them.

"I am not my brother," Dís murmured, interrupting her thoughts. "Not in all ways, at least. There are some things I see that he always had trouble with."

"Such as?"

“When you make hatred a part of yourself, it can cloud your eyes from seeing what is standing right in front of you.”

Tauriel shifted awkwardly. “…And what do you see?”

Before she could get her answer, a voice from outside the door interrupted them. “There you are! What are you doing in the armory, of all places? Have you seen -- Tauriel!" Kíli beamed at her. "I've been looking for you. I wanted to introduce you—"

"We've taken care of that," his mother remarked.

Kíli paused, looking abruptly hesitant. "And... all is well?"

The two women shared a brief glance, and Tauriel found herself smiling. "Yes. I believe it is."

He gave a sudden, joyous whoop that made Tauriel jump a bit, although Dís seemed unaffected (and indeed, a bit amused at her reaction). She didn't have time to cover it up before Kíli had thrown his arms around her, lifting her briefly off the ground. "Good! Good. Perfect.”

Though slightly embarrassed, the contact grounded her, and she felt the stress begin to drain from her body. Dís stood, shaking her head, and moved towards the doorway. 

"I expect to hear your side of the tale sometime soon, elf." There was only warmth in her words, however, and Tauriel found no difficulty in giving her an affirming nod.

In fact, as she buried her hands in Kíli’s hair and he tucked his face into her neck, breath warm against her skin, she thought she might even look forward to it.

_____

Though Tauriel did navigate some hurdles successfully, life in the mountain never truly became as easy as she’d hoped. 

The news of Erebor's reclamation had spread, and all knew the steady trickle of dwarven travelers eager to come and start a new life in the once-renowned kingdom was not likely to cease any time soon. It was a good sign, for the most part -- more dwarves meant more hands to help with the repairs, rebuilding, re-establishing trade and everything else that a kingdom needed to thrive. There was more than enough gold in the mountain to provide payment for anyone offering their services, and to the relief of more than a few, the new king was not at all hesitant about sharing it. 

Yes, repopulating was beneficial... but for Tauriel, it mostly meant that with every new friendship won, ten more confrontations popped up. She handled the conflict as well she could manage, but as the weeks went on, she was growing tired. Kíli was torn between his belief that having her as visible as possible was the quickest way to ensure her acceptance, and his own pain at seeing the weariness and strain in her eyes grow. 

Fíli tried to aid her where he could, but being an untested king, he was on shaky ground to begin with. Tauriel had no wish to complicate his rule more than was necessary, and so began declining his offers of intervention. In truth, having the king speak up for her just seemed to stir more resentment in those who declared themselves her enemies — much of the time, Tauriel wondered if there was anything she could do that _wouldn’t_ have that result, aside from dropping dead on the spot.

Having Dís’ quiet support was a source of immense relief, but Tauriel suspected that she was also unwilling to rock the boat at the time out of concern for her sons. Tauriel understood. That was as it should be. She was the one out of place — this was their kingdom, and she had chosen to try and make a home within it. It had to be on her.

And if the voice at the back of her mind whispering that it was impossible, that it was folly, that the only thing she would succeed in is causing more suffering for herself and those she loved was just getting stronger — well. She’d become skilled at ignoring barbed words.

Even when they came from herself.

_____

"You aren't happy here."

Tauriel's spine stiffened imperceptibly, and she schooled her expression before turning. She had been confronted so many times that it barely even registered enough to bother her anymore -- but she'd never expected it from this particular source.

"Are you asking me to leave?"

Fíli's small, rueful smile was entirely in contrast with his words. "No, I'm telling you you _should_."

It was impossible to completely mask the hurt in her expression, and when she opened her mouth to -- what? Argue? Ask why? Or 'how could you?' -- the king held up both hands in a calming gesture.

"Easy. I'm not kicking you out."

She stilled. “Then... why?"

"Because it is the truth. You are not happy. No one could blame you for it, either -- I've heard a number of things." His shrewd glance indicated that he knew there was likely a great deal _he_ hadn't heard that _she_ had.

"I've never made a complaint,” she said shortly. 

"I know, Tauriel. And I know you could have -- or you could have done a number of other things. I also believe I know why you _didn't_."

She stayed silent.

Fíli rested his arms on the stone railing, staring out towards the lights of Dale. “I… thank you. For what you have done for him. Not just saving his arse, though I'll always be in your debt for that, but for what you'd done since. You've kept trouble from him, at the cost of yourself. Still, it is costing him as well, now. You must see that."

Tauriel curled her hands into fists, just to feel the nails dig into her skin. "And so despite my efforts, his pain is still my fault."

He snorted. "No. Kíli will do as he wishes, and feel as he wills. You can't be blamed for that."

"Then what would you have me do?"

"I've already told you. Leave."

"If you think my leaving him will hurt him any less--"

“No!” He turned towards her, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “Damn -- I know you're smarter than this. You've proven it. Or is it just when it concerns my brother that you have trouble thinking?"

Stunned, Tauriel stared at him, trying to work through her muddled thoughts and not willing to acknowledge the undercurrent of truth in his words. 

"If you leave," he continued. "So will he. You have to know that as well as I do."

She shook her head slowly. "He would not leave you. Especially not now, after--" After Thorin.

Fíli sighed, evidently not having expected to have to spell it out. "Kíli and I went on the quest for Thorin, not for the throne, and not for the riches... and now he does the same for me. I know it. He stays for me, and you stay for him -- and I'm grateful, I am. Especially at the start--" and here he stumbled, much as she had, his initial composure regarding the topic of his uncle starting to crack. However strong he had become, that loss would be fresh for a long time yet. Perhaps it was all the more reason for him to alleviate what hurts he could.

"I don't know what I would have done, had he not been with me then." Had she not saved him. "But I'm the elder brother, Tauriel. Looking out for Kíli is my job. It has always been. And being king -- big as that job is, it doesn't take precedence over the other."

Tauriel could only watch him, unsure of where this was going, and if she should even begin to hope.

"And he isn't happy like this. So, I'm going to do something about it, since it seems neither of you are about to. Come, now. Isn't there anywhere you'd like to go?"

Something stirred in her, a fierce longing, an _excitement_. Though she didn’t answer, whatever showed in her eyes seemed to be enough for Fíli to give a decisive nod.

"You don't have to tell me right now. But think about it."

She swallowed once. ”I am... surprised, that you would let him go so easily."

"I never said this was easy," he retorted. "But I've been thinking about it for some time. You've always been free to leave, but you have not, even with what you have had to endure here. I knew if you did go, Kíli would follow you. I thought you knew that, too." The look he gave her now was considering, but not in a way that made her uncomfortable. "Still, you chose to stay. You did not try to take him. And I suppose that's when I knew that I could trust you to not only stay with him... but to bring him back."

Her eyebrows rose slightly.

"What? You didn't think I was telling you to leave forever, did you?” He offered her an amused grin. “I'm not that generous. But even a short while could help... and Erebor will settle, in time. Then wounds can truly begin to heal. I can't promise it will be enough, but... I can promise that I will aid it, where I can.”

It was tempting, so, so tempting, and yet… “Have you spoken to him about this?”

He jerked his head towards the door leading back inside. “What do you think our mother’s doing right now?”

Tauriel’s eyes went wide. “Dís agreed?”

“More than agreed. It was as much her idea as it was mine.” He chuckled at her expression. “Is it really so surprising?”

“Yes,” she answered immediately.

“You ought to give her more credit,” he admonished. “She has been good to you, I thought?”

“She has,” she amended hastily. “It isn’t that. It’s simply… she has not been reunited with him for long.”

“Her take on the matter is much the same as mine,” he said with a light shrug of his shoulders. “We would rather know he is content elsewhere than watch him struggle here. Not to mention she’s come to expect his restlessness. It’s part of who he is — and part of who _you_ are, if I’ve pinned you right.”

Tauriel found herself nodding before she could think about it, and Fíli clapped a friendly hand on her arm. “Now, I’m off to speak to my brother. Did you wish to come along?”

After a moment of consideration she shook her head, feeling entirely too jumbled inside to handle facing all three at once. “I… need to think on it, for a while.”

“Right,” Fíli said, giving her a knowing look. “I’ll send him on to you once we’re done with him, then.”

_____

And so Tauriel found herself waiting in Kíli's chambers, unable to keep from worrying about what he would have to say when he returned. He always referred to them as _their_ chambers, but she did not truly feel as though they were, not yet. Perhaps one day, if Fíli was correct.

He had been correct about several other things, she had forced herself to admit. She hadn’t allowed herself to truly think on leaving the mountain, despite how ill it suited her sometimes. There hadn’t been a point. It meant she would leave alone and have to seek out a new life, a new purpose, whilst always thinking on what she had left behind. Or, if Fíli was to be believed, Kíli would have gone with her, which meant she would be the cause for even more splintering of their family, and resentment in their kingdom. She could not bear that. 

But now that his family _supported_ the idea… things might be different. Kíli would be able to return and be welcomed. She would not be turned aside as a poor influence. He would not need to choose between them, and she would not have to choose between this dwarf she had come to care so deeply for and her desire for freedom and trees and stars. 

In the guard, she had become adept at setting aside any such desires, focusing on fulfilling her role as best and as effectively as she could. Being able to move about the forest helped, as well as refining her skills in combat, but the seeds of curiosity about the lands and people beyond the Mirkwood had never truly withered away. Once the forest grew dark, and the evils encroaching just outside had become impossible to ignore, those seeds had pushed again to the surface — and then when she had rescued a young charismatic dwarf from a spider, and had seen in him all that the malevolence threatened to steal away, they had burst open and woven green tendrils about her heart.

Her choice to follow where they led had brought her pain, yes, but she did not regret them. And she could not help but think that if she did not do this now, if she did not take this risk, then she would regret, and Kíli along with her.

Tauriel had finished preparing herself for bed and was sitting in the chair by the fire when Kíli finally stumbled in, pushing the door open without looking where he was going. He appeared deep in thought, not even noticing her while he removed his coat. 

Ill at ease with his uncharacteristic silence, she put in the first word. “I did not ask him to do this."

He looked up, startled, and all at once the tension slipped from his shoulders, returning him to the easy countenance he usually had around her. He crossed the room quickly and reached for her hands. "No, no. I know that, amrâlimê. I never thought else."

It was one of the things they had in common, after all -- there was not an ounce of deception between them. They said what they felt, or nothing at all. Tauriel had been most accustomed to defaulting to 'nothing', having been raised in the Mirkwood and never being particularly adept at the intricacies and nuance of the elven court. Kíli, however, had been raised exactly the opposite, and encouraged her to do the same.

"But he is right,” he said, voice low and rough with frustration and guilt. “You are suffering, and I haven't been able to do anything about it.”

Tauriel's heart warmed, and she took her hands from his to slip her arms around him, drawing him close. "You have done everything," she murmured, turning her face into his neck and reveling in the feel of his arms around her shoulders, his breath in her hair. His warmth never failed to be a comfort, and in it she was reminded why she remained there at all.

"It is not enough."

"Then perhaps he is right. Perhaps nothing can be, right now."

He tensed slightly in her arms, and she ran her hands slowly along his back to soothe him. When she felt him relax again, she drew back, needing to see his eyes. "Kíli, we do not need to go. I will not, not if you do not wish to. I know how difficult it would be to leave your family, even for a short time."

Kíli stared back at her, eyes dark with concern. ”But remaining here would be harder on you."

"If you choose to do this, do not do it just for my sake,” she said with a swift shake of her head. “I've accepted the consequences of my choices. I will be fine."

He watched her carefully, leaving her feeling disarmed in a way no one else could. She dropped her gaze, and he immediately brought a hand to her chin, lifting it until their eyes met again. His expression was soft, and his smile was quirked with fond disbelief.

"But you _want_ to go, Tauriel."

She opened her mouth to protest, and he hushed her. Somewhere in her mind she acknowledged that the denial would have been weak indeed, as he succeeded so easily.

"I know you do."

“…You would not need to come with me," she offered, knowing better than to deny it. Kíli had always been able to read her well, even when they had only just met. She was only now starting to be as adept at it with him, though admittedly she rarely needed to be, as he offered his thoughts and feelings to her openly and without hesitation. Still, she could barely get the words out of her throat, well-meant though they may be. "I could go, for a time. Give you a chance to mend things. I would return."

At that, his fingers brushed over the silken pouch hanging from her neck. "I know you would, but _I_ would not be willing to wait."

She had never really believed he would accept that offer, but all the same, it was a relief to have it rejected. His mortality was a constant shadow in the corner of her mind, and the thought of losing time with him, even a short time, made her shiver with dread.

"Tauriel," he murmured, leaning in and brushing his lips over her forehead, then down the curve of her cheek. The husky tone made even her name sound like an endearment. "Tauriel."

"Mm?"

"I want to go."

Tauriel looked up in surprise, to find his eyes bright and his smile easier than it had been all night. "I know I should not. I am a prince, with a responsibility to this kingdom... and I have never been away from my brother. But there are so many things I want to show you, and things I want to see with you for the first time."

The excitement that she hadn't yet allowed herself to acknowledge started to rise, echoing the eagerness in his eyes.

"Besides," he said softly, carding his fingers through the softest strands at the back of her neck, which never failed to elicit a shiver, "if my mother and brother _both_ tell me so, how can I say no?"

She sent him a skeptical look. "I imagine you have done so before."

He grinned, giving her hair an affectionate tug. "Well, yes, but never when it was something I _also_ wanted."

He almost didn't get to finish his sentence before she was kissing him, driven by the need to be as close as possible. He laughed softly into her mouth, the warm air brushing over her face as their mouths met again and again, less an act of lust or desperation than one of reconnection. It was not that she had ever felt distant from Kíli, not truly -- they had always clung tightly to one another, regardless of the circumstances -- but that initial spark of joy and wonder that had called her to him in the first place was fanning back into a full blaze.

When they finally broke away, faces flushed and breathing quick, Kíli cradled her face in his hands and peered into her eyes, his warm smile tinged with what could have been sorrow. "Ah, there she is."

Her brow furrowed, and she looked at him questioningly.

"My lady of starlight, with the heavens in her eyes and the moon in her smile."

The flattery elicited an amused huff. "She has always been here."

"Yes, but her light has been growing dim. Perhaps you could not see it, but to one who loves her so dearly, and needs to gaze upon it as much as he needs to breathe, it is impossible to miss."

She opened her mouth to protest -- she had not been _that_ unhappy, surely -- but he hushed her with a kiss, just a soft brush of his lips over hers. 

"She cannot be blamed. It must be difficult for a star to shine under the stone, even one as brilliant as she. But it will all be well soon, and she will dance under the sky once more."

Quite done with his fawning, Tauriel stood, relinquishing her hold on his hands as she moved over to their bed. "I never promised dancing."

He grinned, watching her with open adoration. “I’ve seen how you fight. The way you move, you must be a fine dancer.”

She discarded her light robe and settled onto the bed. “I cannot say I’ve often had the occasion to dance — or the inclination.”

“Clearly,” he said in a low voice, “you just haven’t found the right partner.” With that he hoisted himself beside her, barely pausing to remove his boots before climbing over her body. 

A familiar look crept over his face, one he often wore whenever they were together in such a way. It always reminded her of that time in Lake Town, when he had gazed at her and believed her to be a vision, his eyes liquid with awe and desperate yearning. Those were still evident, but the desperation was tempered with unabashed wonder, as though every moment she remained a real physical presence and did not fade away as a dream continued to overwhelm him, even after everything. 

Tauriel allowed him to bring their faces close together, but brushed her words over his lips instead of committing to the kiss he sought. “I cannot think of anyone suitable. Perhaps you have a suggestion?”

“You wound me,” Kíli said with mock petulance, making teasing motions to try and capture her mouth. “Alas, I do have one in mind — but he should have known such a divine beauty was only toying with him, entrancing his poor young heart with her magic and her grace until he can think of naught else. And the clincher is he would not even complain, but would thank her each day for the privilege of just being near, of bathing in her light—”

Cheeks heating with self-consciousness at the honeyed words, Tauriel flipped their positions in one effortless movement, pressing him down into the soft pillows. “He could reward her better by refraining from such shameless flattery,” she muttered, which only seemed to amplify his delight.

“Ah, but why would I be ashamed? It would take some doing to keep me from showering my lady in the adulation she deserves,” he declared, his hands reaching to undo her loose sleeping braid so he could run his fingers through the fall of her hair. “But if she wishes to silence me, she is of course welcome to try.”

She promptly pulled one of the pillows down over his face. He immediately began thrashing with indignation, but she held him down easily until she felt her point had been made. His muffled yelling swiftly turned into merriment, and she lifted the cushion to cover his laughing mouth with hers, their shared joy and anticipation a palpable current humming through the air and over their skin. 

_____

The day they were to leave the mountain dawned clear and cold. Tauriel stood in the doorway, looking out and breathing in the crisp air. Her elven blood kept her from feeling much chill, but even if it hadn’t, Dís had made certain that she was dressed in fine fur-lined leathers that had been tailored specifically to fit her lithe frame. The dwarven matron was taking her responsibility as Tauriel’s ‘mother’ very seriously, despite the fact that the elf was not actually married to her son. Well, not by the standards of the dwarves, at any rate, and if Fíli was wrong and the attitudes in Erebor never changed… then they likely never would be. 

It did not particularly bother Tauriel, though as an elf, she _did_ consider herself married, and had done so since she’d chosen to give herself to Kíli on that night months ago. For his part, Kíli seemed to feel much the same, treating her as his wife regardless of tradition. Neither of them had ever been particularly good at going about things in the ‘proper’ way. It was likely just another one of the reasons they had been drawn to each other in the first place.

She took another deep breath and then looked over to where Kíli was checking over their packs, making sure everything was in order. A few hours ago he had greeted her upon waking with eager, giddy kisses, before burying his face in her neck and whispering his excitement into her skin. Now as she watched him, she could see the enthusiasm warring with guilt and sorrow on his face. 

Tauriel understood. She had nothing but him, yet he was leaving behind his family, and the home he had fought so hard to reclaim. Even so, there was no hesitance in his movements as he fastened buckles and tightened straps, and when she laid a questioning hand on his shoulder, he offered her a radiant, open smile. Her concern eased in the face of his obvious happiness, and she returned it. 

“Are we ready?” 

“Aye. Everything’s there that we won’t be able to get ourselves as we go,” he affirmed, nodding at the supplies.

They weren’t bringing much, having decided to turn down Fíli’s offer of mounts. Tauriel was more accustomed to moving on foot, due to the dense forest, and Kíli claimed to prefer it as well — although she rather suspected what he really preferred was being able to be close to her as they walked. Still, as they had no set destination in mind or any estimate of how long they would be wandering, it seemed easiest to not have to worry over two animals as well as themselves. 

Packing lightly had been more difficult than expected, particularly once the Company heard of their plans. Gifts were immediately pressed upon the both of them, much to Tauriel’s surprise. Ori had presented her with a finely crafted journal, imploring her to record their adventures and any new and interesting places they might come across. Dori had included a satchel of the floral tea he knew she preferred, and Bombur had supplied them with some of their favorite fare to start their journey with. 

As Tauriel had extensive knowledge of edible plants and they were both excellent archers, neither was much concerned about being able to feed themselves, but having something familiar would ease the sting of parting for a time. Óin had insisted she accept a bag of various medicines and ointments, including, she was amused to discover, a sizable amount of athelas. “We’re counting on you to keep him in one piece, lass,” he’d said as he handed it over.

Only a few knew they were leaving at all, and most of those goodbyes had already been said. That had been Fíli’s idea — there was to be no formal announcement of the prince’s departure, particularly solely in the company of his elven lover. If any were to ask of his whereabouts, the king had instructed their friends to simply say that Kíli was doing work for the kingdom on his orders, and should be back afore long. 

As a result, Fíli and Dís were the only ones to actually see them off, and they were leaving from a side entrance, to draw as little attention as possible. Kíli immediately went to his brother, and Tauriel gave them their space, knowing that would be the most difficult goodbye. 

Dís must have had the same thought, as she approached Tauriel and led her a short ways away. They stood in silence for a moment, looking out from the mountain together, before Dís turned so that they were facing each other. Tauriel braced herself, but all Dís did was reach up to tap a finger against her chest, right over where she knew the runestone hung in its pouch. “That promise applies to you too, now. Do not forget it.”

Tauriel felt suddenly overwhelmed, her throat closing with emotion. After trying and failing to formulate a reply, Dís took pity on her, chucking softly as she drew her into an embrace. 

“There now, my dear,” she murmured. “You’re all right.”

When Tauriel’s trembling ceased, Dís let her go and drew back, smiling at the obvious sheen in her eyes. When she ducked her head, whispering her thanks and blinking against the stinging tears, she noticed Kíli watching them. His wide, approving smile was undiminished by his own tears, which rolled unabashed down his cheeks. Dís patted her arm fondly before going to her son, and Tauriel found herself suddenly facing the young king. 

Fíli wasn’t quite as unrestrained in his emotions as his younger brother, but even so, he did not attempt to cover the wetness in his bright eyes. They stood there awkwardly, and Tauriel was slightly reassured to see that he was almost as at a loss as she was.

“Thank you,” she said simply. It wasn’t enough, but she hoped he could hear in the words all that she did not know how to say. His smile turned a little crooked.

“Remember, I want him returned undamaged,” he said, a note of seriousness beneath the teasing.

“I’ll do my best, but he might make it a challenge,” she returned, which earned her a laugh.

“Oh, he will. No ‘might’ about it. Lucky for him, you’ve shown you’re up to it.” Fíli looked down at his feet for a moment, and when he met her eyes again, she could see the conflict there. “I expect it’s time someone else took on that job.”

Before Tauriel could muster up a reply, Kíli came hurtling into them, putting his arms around them both. “What’s this? There’s far too much distance here for a proper farewell! Fí, you know that’s no way to see family off!”

Fíli’s smile warmed, and he shot Tauriel a rueful glance. “I suppose I do, at that.”

He reached for her, and Tauriel waited a beat for Kíli to move out of the way. When he didn’t, she found herself caught in a tight three-way embrace, and awkwardly placed her arms across each brother’s backs. Fíli lifted a hand to squeeze her shoulder in a heartfelt gesture, and Kíli beamed at them both through his tears.

A throat cleared behind them, and they broke apart to see Dís smiling, looking misty-eyed herself. “You’d best be getting on then, or you’ll never leave.”

In a matter of minutes their packs were hoisted, straps buckled, and a dwarf and an elf were setting off down the mountain together. 

“Where do you think we should head first?” Kíli asked, rubbing at his face.

“First, I think we should stop in Dale.”

He grinned at her, clearly in high spirits despite his red eyes. “Dale? I thought this was about seeing _new_ places.”

“We ought to say farewell to Bard and the children,” she replied, already feeling as though it became easier to breathe with each step she took.

“Fair enough,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “Men age so quickly, who knows what they’ll look like when we return?”

Tauriel bit her lip, troubled by the reminder. Men were not the only ones who aged quickly, after all. Kíli noticed her silence, and gave her an encouraging nudge. 

“So… Dale first, and then… we pick a direction, and see where it takes us!”

She rewarded him with a smile. “And if we don’t like where it leads?”

“Then we pick another one,” he returned, not missing a beat. “That’s the good part about not having a destination — there is no wrong way!”

Somewhere deep down, Tauriel mused that Kíli was not entirely correct. Even without an end in mind, it was still entirely possible to find oneself on the wrong paths. But as she followed her dwarf down to the city, listening to him chatter excitedly about all the tales he had heard and the sights they would see together, she felt a quiet surety settle over her. 

Perhaps for the first time, she had found herself on the right one — and with Kíli’s laughter to guide her back, she did not fear losing sight of it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha so… immediately after I posted the first part, I got caught in a spiral of “oh no it’s terrible, everything I touch is terrible, why I am doing this” and my friends gently laughed at me and reminded me that HEY, fanfic is supposed to be for fun! And they’re right, of course. Who knew writing again after so long would be so stressful?
> 
> Anyway, this was really just meant to be the first short chapter of a much longer story arc, but then it got away from me and became its own thing. However, now I get to move on to the rest — which is telling more stories of their travels from this point on! I have a few things I have in mind, places for them to go, things for them to see, and of course their final return to Erebor at the end of it all. But I would REALLY appreciate any suggestions or ideas! So if there’s someplace you’d like them to go or something you’d like to see them do, please hit me up (either here or on tumblr) and let me know! Prompts are very helpful. I'm moving to Ireland in a couple of weeks, so things might take a bit -- but it also means I'll be spending quite a bit of time traveling, and I'll have my notebook with me!
> 
> Thank you so much to those of you who commented or left kudos — it means a lot to me! I love hearing from other people who care about this much bombarded ship.


End file.
